Remembering the Old Songs:

The Burial of Wild Bill

by Lyle and Elizabeth Lofgren

(Originally published: Inside Bluegrass, August 1997)

The other day, we came upon a feller who was paid by the hour to
impersonate
John Wayne. You might think by his outfit that he was a cowboy, but he
hadn't
even memorized any good Wayne lines (such as "Ya bin bakin' bread:
I can smell ya"). If that's as good as it gets for heroes nowadays,
you could do a better John Wayne imitation just by spitting on the
sidewalk.

We used to cut our heroes a lot of slack. They could be real jerks
and
libertines in private life, as long as they fulfilled our need for
heroism,
and the public Media discreetly turned its face away. Now, if the Media
lies to us, it's to make our heroes out to be even worse than we
thought.
We'll take the old-fashioned lies any day -- the kind you can believe
in.

This is a story of three heroes of the old variety. The first was
Wild
Bill Hickock (1837-1876), and surely you've read or heard about his
adventures
as Marshall of Abilene, as a gunfighter with enough publicity skill to
use
his reputation to settle disputes without having to shoot all that many
people. For awhile, he joined Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show to talk
about
his scouting days in the west for Sherman and Custer. Finally, when he
was
trying to line up a job as Marshall of Deadwood, SD, he was shot in the
back at a poker game after drawing aces and eights (no one seems to
know
what the fifth card was). Acquaintances would later say that Wild
Bill's
eyesight had grown so bad that he could have been easily shot from the
full
frontal position, so his candidacy for Marshall was completely based on
reputation.

Wild Bill was so much bigger than life that he fueled a second
career,
namely that of Captain Jack Crawford (1847-1917). He took "Captain"
as a first name, since he never rose above Private in the Civil War.
During
his recovery from a war wound, a nurse taught him to read, write, and
appreciate
poetry. She taught him so well that he got a job as the Dakota
correspondent
for an Omaha newspaper, and he developed a knack for flowery,
sentimental
poems on western life, noble heroes, innocent youths, and almost
anything
else that could uncork emotions in the industrializing East about the
pristine,
brave American West. He happened to be hanging around Deadwood at the
same
time as Wild Bill, and may have met him. At any rate, he was greatly
influenced
by him. He proclaimed himself an Indian Scout, because on his journeys
he
would spot Indians and report their location to the Army. He abandoned
a
wife and children to prospect and mine for gold in Arizona, New Mexico
and
Alaska, occasionally opening supply stores and trading posts to help
finance
the failed ventures. His main fame, however, was as a stage performer
who
would periodically form a company to re-enact Wild Bill's Death or
Custer's
Last Stand for the edification of the folks back east. He would then
recite
his cowboy poems, and there wasn't a dry eye in the house, so of course
he also sold poetry books. In his later years, being a showman reliving
the Wild West was his only occupation. Unfortunately, all these
activities
were revenue-neutral, leaving him with a great reputation as a
"poet-scout,"
but no money for himself or family. For more information on Captain
Jack,
read the uncritical biography Captain Jack Crawford: Buckskin Poet,
Scout and Showman, by Darlis A. Miller (University of New Mexico
Press,
1993).

The third hero, and perhaps the most genuine, was Ernest V. Stoneman
(1893-1968), one of the most economically successful of the Appalachian
music performers recording in the 1920s (which still isn't saying
much).
With an earnest singing style and straightforward musical approach on
guitar
and harmonica or autoharp, he made hundreds of recordings with lots of
other
musicians, including his wife Hattie, Hattie's sister Irma Frost, Eck
Dunford,
and Kahle Brewer.

Ernest's popularity pressured him for more "hillbilly" songs
for the record companies. He had the excellent education that was then
available
from grammar school, and was interested in history (many years later,
he
would win some money in that category on a TV show, The Big
Surprise).
When a local newspaper reprinted one of Captain Jack Crawford's poems,
an
elegy to Wild Bill Hickock, Stoneman composed a majestic tune to go
with it, reminiscent
of the old-time hymns. He recorded it with Frank and Oscar Jenkins
(banjo
and fiddle), and (probably due to contract conflicts), released it
under
the pseudonym "Alex Gordon" on the Conqueror label (7270). We
don't have any dirt on Stoneman, other than that he sometimes lied
about
his name for business reasons. The next time someone tries to relate to
you the latest scandal denigrating a modern hero, sing them this song
and
tell them to get their myths in order.

Complete Lyrics:

Under the sod in the land of gold
We have laid the fearless Bill;
We called him wild, yet a little child
Could bend his iron will.
With a generous heart he freely gave
To the poorly-clad unshod;
Think of it, pards, of his noble traits,
While you cover him with the sod.

Under the sod in the Deadwood gulch
We have laid his last remains.
No more his manly form will hail
The Red Man on the plains.
And many a heartfelt sigh was heard
As over the sward we trod,
And many an eye was filled with tears
As we covered him with the sod.

You buried him 'neath the old pine tree
In that little world of ours;
His trusty rifle by his side,
His grave all strewn with flowers;
His manly form in sweet repose,
That lovely silken hair;
It was a sight we can't forget,
That face so bright and fair.

Under the sod in the prairie land
We have laid the good and true;
An honest heart and a noble man
Has bade his last adieu.
No more his silvery voice will ring;
His spirit has gone to God;
Around his faults let charity cling
While we cover him with the sod.